


Pull Me Down (If You Want To)

by echoist



Series: Show Me Where Trouble Goes [1]
Category: The Following
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Series, Rough Sex, murderous intent, shameless psychopathic plotting, townhouse of lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoist/pseuds/echoist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone deserves a happy ending, but sometimes you can scrape by on what you've got. </p><p>  <i><span class="small">Written as a gift for anchorlight, but now it's for pockettorres as well. I'm sorry I took so long in the writing.</span></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Me Down (If You Want To)

 

 

 

 

  
_'In the places we die, in the places we live;_  
 _our souls grow stronger as we bury them deep._  
 _You are are my bitter one; you are the better one.'_

Spyder, Bitter One

 

It's been a long forty-eight hours when Sarah knocks on their door, wet from the late spring rainfall and bags under her eyes. Jacob knows that look when he answers the door, knows she must have lost someone on the table today, knows emergency medicine takes its toll on Sarah, but she once confessed that she needed the pace, the chaos and the hectic scrambling of holding lives in her hand. The desperate relief when a patient stabilizes and her own heart calms, matching the pace of the machines. It's a come down, a sweeping peace that she can rely on, the only drug that lets her manage what remains of her life outside of work. She chooses to save, to mend, against all odds and this is what sets her life now apart from the wreckage that came before.

Jacob saw the scars once, in a dressing room at Sarah's favorite thrift shop, helping her try on summer dresses. The trust she placed in him, the certainty that he would never look at her as an object, never desire the body she placed before him had confused and startled him at first, until the façade clicked back into place and Jacob found he knew what to do. He found colors that suited her hair, her eyes, picked out patterns and cuts that flattered. Soft, gentle fabrics that wouldn't irritate sensitive skin. He'd never realized he had the skill for it, until she'd shown him by expecting nothing less. She'd smiled at herself in the mirror, and then up at him, with absolute faith that he would never do anything to risk her harm. They left with a simple a-line dress, alive with blue and yellow flowers and she'd held his hand as they strolled down the sidewalk.

Tonight, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and guides her to the kitchen, pours her a glass of wine. She wipes away the tears, her back already straighter in his company, and he brushes his fingers through her hair, damp with rain. She takes a sip and smiles down at the floor. He won't ask, and she doesn't have to tell him, but she will. Paul closes his laptop and joins them, one hand brushing lightly against Sarah's shoulders and she leans into his touch. He pulls two more glasses off the rack and they stay there, silent, until her glass is half empty and she's ready to speak.

 

It had taken a while, after they'd moved in. Jacob was becoming frustrated with their lack of contact, their inability to crack open Sarah's life and work their way inside. 'Just be patient,' Paul advised, when Jacob would pace the floor and mutter about how nothing was going according to plan. He ran his fingers through his hair, pressed his palms hard against his eyes until Paul cornered him against the counter, pulled his hands back down to his sides, fingers lingering at his wrists. 'You can't force this sort of thing. She'll open up, she just has to get to know us first.'

'Yeah,' Jacob sighed. 'Us. Will Wilson and Billy Thomas.' He looked away when Paul tried to meet his eyes. Paul ran his hands along Jacob's arms, squeezing his shoulders. With one hand on the back of Jacob's neck, he'd pulled him in close, and Jacob had relented. Paul traced gentle lines along his back until the tension eased from his body, and he rested his head against Paul's shoulder. Will loved Billy's hands, loved their long fingers, their powerful grip, and their endless capacity for gentleness. Jacob wished that fascination wasn't slowly spilling over onto him, watching the way Paul typed at the keyboard, the way he folded his clothes neatly, precisely, after taking them out of the dryer. The way Paul could turn his entire head with the tip of one finger pressed softly against Jacob's jaw before leaning in for a swift, closed-lipped kiss at the neighborhood coffee shop.

 

Then it was July and they'd both had the day off, grateful for government holidays, and they'd decided to go to the parade. They'd bumped into Sarah, literally, precisely, and Jacob had apologized profusely. Paul had ruffled his hair, and Jacob's embarrassment wasn't difficult to feign. He'd blushed, smacking Paul's hand away and Sarah had smiled shyly, amused by their antics. They'd watched the marching bands go by, caught candy tossed from the floats, and Jacob had given Sarah all the foil wrapped strawberry bon-bons.

'How do you not love these?' she'd exclaimed, unwrapping the pink and green foil. 'Everybody loves the red ones,' and he'd shaken his head, grinning. It was a detail about Will invented on the spot, but it _worked_. He'd called her a weirdo, and she'd laughed, and later they'd walked back to the townhouses, tired from the sun and the crowd and the noise. It was nearing dark, time for the fireworks, and Sarah had begged off, saying she was lucky to have had the day free at all. Her morning rotation started early, still working her way through a grueling internship at Santara General, and she'd have to be awake well before daylight. She'd waved to them, halfway through her front door, and they'd smiled back. Jacob heard all three locks click into place behind her.

'See?' Paul had teased, those hands at Jacob's sides again, lightly tickling. 'I told you, we just had to wait her out.'

'You think she likes us?' Jacob asked, squirming away from Paul's searching hands as he tried to catch his breath from laughing.

'I think she likes you,' Paul said, considering. 'And she'll like me by extension.'

Jacob tilted his head, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling. 'Why wouldn't she like you?' Paul had huffed out a short laugh, his smile curving up mean and knife-sharp, and Jacob saw the layers peel back, watched Billy disappear and the predator remain. But it was gone as soon as it had come, Paul's features rearranging themselves into a wry smile as he shook his head.

'I bet we could see the fireworks from the roof,' he said, abruptly changing the subject, and Jacob was only too glad to follow his lead.

'You think we can get out there?' Jacob asked, somewhat incredulous, and Paul answered with a smile. 'Just watch me.' Paul bounded up the stairs and slid open their bedroom window, popping out the screen to lift one leg over the sill. The tiles were cheap but heavily textured, and Paul found his footing without much difficulty. The low slope of the roof was just gentle enough that he could balance in a crouch, holding one hand out in invitation. Jacob laughed and shook his head, cautiously stretching out his hand towards Paul's searching fingers. Paul grasped him by the wrist, tugging him forward and Jacob sat on the sill, lowering his legs over slowly, one at a time. He shuffled down, halfway between the window and the edge and Paul settled in behind him, arms wrapped around Jacob's waist.

The whole neighborhood could be watching, but they probably weren't and Jacob's thoughts took a winding path around what that meant. He was unsteady, that's all, and Paul was just keeping him safe. That's what friends did for one another, right? Even friends of Joe Carroll. Jacob let himself relax, leaning back against Paul's chest and trusting in the safety of those hands against his ribs. They watched as the sky darkened, a brief glimmering of stars appearing on the horizon.

The first pops and bangs came moments later, and Paul had been right, after all. They had a perfect, unobstructed view of the celebration downtown. Spark after spark rose into the sky and exploded into showers of red and blue, gold and green, coloring the few clouds that remained. 'What's your favorite kind?' Jacob asked, resting his head on Paul's shoulder, and Paul took a moment, his hands wandering a bit over Jacob's shirt before answering.

'I don't know,' he confessed. 'I always liked playing chicken with roman candles, you know, seeing who could light off the most without losing a limb.' Jacob laughed.

'Of course you did,' he said, settling his hands over Paul's where they'd come to rest in his lap.

'Are you insane?' Sarah's voice called up to them from her front steps. She'd wandered out in a tank top and flip flops, the slight breeze blowing her hair into her eyes.

'Probably,' Jacob called back.

'You should join us,' Paul suggested. She shook her head, laughing. 'I'm not stitching you up when you fall down from there and break a leg,' she answered.

'Aw, c'mon,' Jacob teased. 'Life is short!' Paul laughed and pressed his head against Jacob's to hide his malicious amusement. Jacob smirked, knowing he'd managed to surprise him. One more notch in the score he was meticulously _not_ keeping.

Sarah sighed, shaking her head. 'All right, but you're paying my medical bills if _I'm_ the one who goes down like Humpty-Dumpty.'

'Agreed,' Paul answered, and climbed back toward the window. 'Come on over, the door's open. I'll help you out.'

Jacob watched the lights burn and flicker in the sky. His favorites had always been the giant clusters that started out with an ear-shattering bang and spun out, iterations of explosive spiral bursts until they fell from the sky in a shuddering rain of gold-stained ashes. Sarah appeared at their window, hesitant and unsure, and Paul slipped out first, his footing steady across the tiles. She took his outstretched hand and gingerly crawled through the window, wavering a bit once both feet were on the slope. He guided her down, one hand at her elbow, and they sat together, with Jacob in between. Jacob watched the delight on her face as each spark rose and ignited, clapped and cheered with her for the finale when it seemed like the sky itself might crack and collapse over their heads from the ringing blows.

She'd yawned, leaning against Jacob briefly before struggling to get to her feet. They both steadied her, one to either side as she clambered back over the sill, all of them laughing at the rewards of impulsiveness and the slight thrill of risking danger. 'Thank you,' she'd said, cheeks flushed, the words genuine on her tongue. She'd hugged each of them before leaving, still carrying her smile as she closed the door behind her.

'You're good,' Jacob had complimented Paul after they'd heard her door close on the other side. Paul leaned back against the stairs and grinned. 'I know,' he answered, and Jacob had punched him in the shoulder.

 

They'd kept separate bedrooms, in the beginning. Paul took the master, and Jacob bunked in the slightly smaller guest room down the hall. It began to seem awkward, after the first few weeks, making sure the light never burned in the second room for more than a moment, and keeping the hallway bath appearing spotless and unused. Jacob changed the sheets frequently, making the bed with hospital corners and keeping all of his clothes in Paul's room, just in case. They rarely had visitors, and no one ever came to stay for the night, but it had seemed like a necessary ruse all the same. One careless neighbor snooping about was all it would take to wonder why such a happy couple had decided to sleep apart.

Paul slept like a log, most nights, but Jacob, still uncertain and fearing discovery, woke to every errant sound in the dark. The creak of a floorboard, the air cutting on, even the thump and crackle of the freezer downstairs dumping a fresh batch of ice would rouse him from sleep. One night in September he awoke to the sound of the front door rattling in its frame, and Paul discovered him prowling about the house with a flashlight and a pistol.

Jacob turned, shining the light in his face and Paul winced, holding up one hand to shield his eyes. 'The hell are you doing?' he'd asked, his voice still rough with sleep. 'I heard something,' Jacob answered. 'You know there have been break-ins around here, I was just – I thought it might be a good idea, you know, to check it out?' He lowered the pistol to his side, and shrugged. 'I can't sleep anyway,' he muttered.

'I've noticed,' Paul said, crossing the floor to take the gun from his hand. 'I'm going to put this up, and you're going to stay with me tonight, all right?'

'I -' Jacob scratched his head, the beam from his flashlight arcing in crazy angles around the room. 'Is that all right? You don't mind?'

'If I minded, I wouldn't have offered,' Paul reassured him. 'Come back upstairs.'

Jacob padded up the steps behind him, stood awkwardly by in his t-shirt and boxers while Paul turned down the bed. Paul slept in a pair of sweatpants that hung off his hips and Jacob watched the way the muscles clung to his arms and stretched across his back in the thin beams of moonlight through the blinds. Sensing Jacob's reluctance, Paul turned. 'What,' he said flatly. 'You never had a sleepover when you were a kid?'

'No, no,' Jacob replied with a hesitant laugh. 'I did.'

Paul smirked. 'I bet you made your friends sleep on the floor, you jackass. You did, didn't you?'

'What?' Jacob responded, feigning insult. 'I did not.'

'Then what's the problem?' Paul asked. 'I promise, I won't molest you in your sleep,' he said with a mocking scoff.

'Of course you won't,' Jacob answered, matching his tone. 'I'm just – still a little freaked out about the noise downstairs, that's all.'

Paul shook his head. 'Go to sleep, you idiot,' he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a fond smile. He climbed onto one side of the bed and reached out for the clock. 'What time do you need to get up?' he asked, and muttered as he set the alarm to Jacob's appallingly early answer.

'I don't really _have_ to go in so early tomorrow,' Jacob admitted. 'We could sleep in a bit, if you want.'

'It's fine,' Paul answered, fixing the numbers for the break of dawn. 'I don't mind.'

Jacob laid down on the opposite side of the bed, wrapping his arms around a pillow. Paul settled the blankets around him, and he relaxed, feeling the warmth radiate from the body at his side. There was something comforting about Paul's presence that he didn't want to acknowledge, even to himself. He loved Emma, Jacob reminded himself. He loved her, and that was what Joe wanted, and that was what _he_ wanted too. He repeated it in his mind, burning the mantra into memory. Everything had been so much easier before it was just the two of them, on their own against the banality of suburban life. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that living with Paul had been Joe's idea too, and he managed to stop short of wondering just exactly how and why that might fit into the plan.

He snuggled down under the covers instead, his back to Paul's warmth. Though sleep was slow in coming, the peace of another body by his side seemed well worth the effort.

 

After that, it just seemed easier. Jacob made up the guest room for the last time, hospital corners and all, emptied the drawers and closet of anything he might have left behind. They kept coats and jackets in the closet during the summer, because that's what Jacob's mother had always done. They gave the guest bath a once over every couple of weeks to keep it tidy, and took turns using the master bath in the mornings. Jacob was always up earlier, enjoying a little peace and quiet in the teacher's lounge before class began. Paul had the luxury of keeping banker's hours, and was paid far more for his trouble.

They had guests, occasionally; fellow teachers from Jacob's school would join them for dinner, and once or twice parents of his favorite students dropped by for a chat. They were perfectly, disgustingly normal and the façade eased slowly into a comfortable routine.

Then the year turned, and Sarah had thrown a New Year's Eve celebration. The room was filled with her co-workers, and Sarah every inch the perfect hostess, but Jacob noticed that while she smiled and greeted everyone by name, she kept her distance. As the evening wore on, she gravitated to Paul and Jacob's sides, Jacob's hand on the small of her back, Paul's on her shoulder, reassuring. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that they were her only real friends. The only ones she trusted to keep this close. Guilt rankled in his stomach, nearly making him sick, until he remembered the fullness of the plan, the endless doorways Joe Carroll could open for both of them. He held on to that idea in his mind, remembering the nights of scheming in the attic, the tests and party games and how he'd never felt more at home in his life than on that worn out, raggedy couch, surrounded by killers. Well, he noted, making a mental addendum; Emma's house had been his first  _real_ home. Here, living with Paul, had somehow become a sturdy safety net, a more intimate space to call his own. 

He felt Paul's eyes on him, questioning, and Jacob didn't have to fake a smile. He glanced toward the bottles of champagne lining Sarah's counter, and back down to the empty glass in his hand. Paul chuckled and refilled it for him, bending slightly to brush a soft kiss against his lips. Paul's hands lingered on him after that, possessive, and Jacob allowed it, lightheaded and unsteady. Grateful for the arm slung around his shoulders, the fingers softly stroking the back of his neck and drawing the blood up to the surface. The response had become Pavlovian; Paul's hands moved to his body and he leaned into them, trusted them, craved their touch against his skin.

Those hands, both ruse and security, still held the powerful threat of death. Jacob knew well that at any moment, if he chose, Paul could end his life. A hand about his throat, one swift twist of his neck or turning to find a knife in his gut – these were scenarios he envisioned when his mind set to wandering too far abroad. In his dreams, Paul's hands were nothing so deadly, but infinitely more dangerous. They were everywhere, stroking, exploring, fiercely gentle and so very, very thorough. He woke sweating and frantic, more terrified of his sleeping mind than any stray thought he entertained while awake. These were doors he kept firmly shut, afraid of what he might find lying in wait behind them.

Later, huddled together on Sarah's humorously small couch, they tuned in to Times Square and counted down the seconds, cheering along as the year turned. They raised a toast, always the good sports, and drank another round of champagne. When every couple turned towards one another, sharing a sloppy-drunk holiday kiss, Sarah looked up at them from where she sat on the floor, smiling as if to say, _It's all right_. Jacob grinned and caught Paul's face in his hands, drawing their lips together. It was meant to be quick. Just a simple, chaste kiss for the crowd, for Sarah, but it lingered when Paul didn't pull away. His lips moved against Jacob's, his mouth tasted like champagne and chocolate and Jacob could feel the smile as Paul lightly kissed the corner of his mouth and leaned his head against his cheek. 'For luck,' he whispered against Jacob's ear, and he felt his face flush crimson in the dim glow of colored lights.

The party-goers eventually left, two by two, and Sarah seemed relieved by their absence. They picked up wayward glasses, Jacob seeing the empty bottles to the recycling bins in desperate need of something, anything to occupy his hands as his mind insisted on reliving one singular moment. Paul shuffled about her kitchen, slightly unsteady on his feet as he collected the detritus of intoxicated celebration. Sarah shooed them out, claiming she'd do the rest after her next shift. It was late, and she had work the next morning, and they hugged her close before staggering out the door, arm in arm. Paul broke out a bottle of wine once they were safely inside, exhausted from the crowd and the pretense and the ever growing sense between them that all wasn't going quite as planned. Jacob sprawled across the couch while Paul filled his glass from a bottle they'd been saving, meaning to share it with Sarah as congratulations for her acceptance into a residency program. Jacob eyed it nervously, but he couldn't help feeling flattered that Paul had decided to open it for them, instead.

Paul's hands shook beneath the bottle and wine splashed over the edges of their glasses. Jacob laughed and teased him fondly. 'I think we've had enough already,' he joked, not meaning it at all, and Paul had smiled back. 'You're adorable when you're drunk,' he replied, handing him an overfull glass. Jacob had blushed and taken a large sip, knowing it was an excellent vintage and he really should be taking the time to enjoy it more slowly. He sat the glass on the end table, leaning back across the cushions and prodded Paul with his feet.

'You're the one that got all handsy over there,' he accused, laughing. 'Shut up,' Paul laughed, his face alight with an honest sort of humor that Jacob hadn't seen for days, maybe even weeks. 'It was for Sarah. I think, somehow, we make her feel less alone, just by being together.' He frowned, taking a quick sip of wine as if he'd meant to say something else, or just not speak at all. Jacob responded by edging closer, tickling his sides to change the mood, knowing just the right places to make Paul squirm. He laughed, full and deep, setting down his wine before it spilled all over the rug. Jacob was laughing, too, leaning in for a better angle and then -

Then Paul kissed him. It was quick, but intense, his mouth open against Jacob's for just a moment before he pulled away. Jacob sat back, watching his face fall, watching Paul's eyes dart up to meet his and then shy away again. He watched Paul's shoulders shift, heavy with misery and regret. Jacob could feel the apology forming before Paul ever opened his mouth and that's not what he wanted, knew it as suddenly and intensely as he'd known the moment he'd first met Joe that this was _right_. He'd woken early too many times with Paul's arm slung casually across his hips, had heard his name fall from Paul's mouth while he was sleeping, wistful and needy and the honesty punched him in the gut every time. It had never been quite the same charade for Paul as it was for him, he'd known that and steadfastly managed to ignore it, but what had it grown into while he wasn't looking? Jacob had known he'd eventually get tired of playing along for their public, though he'd never guessed that this would be the reason why.

He shifted slowly on the couch, brought his hand up to Paul's face and kissed him back. Paul froze for only a second, visibly fighting his own self control before giving in, gripping the back of Jacob's neck and lifting him up and back. Jacob braced against the cushions, arms wrapping around Paul's chest and holding on for dear life. Paul kissed him hard and fast, like he'd been starving for this, desperate, and Jacob felt tears burning in his eyes, refusing to let them fall. He'd never felt this wild, this out of control, even when Emma had pushed him down on her bed and he'd realised she was nothing like the shrinking violet she appeared. He liked the weight of Paul against him, loved those dangerously gentle hands reaching out to take, asking permission for more. This made sense in a way that raced through Jacob's veins like fire and when he pulled back, just for a moment, just to take a breath, he saw the same hunger mirrored in Paul's eyes.

Paul's lips fell to his neck, licking and biting just hard enough to make Jacob gasp without leaving a mark. He groaned, gripping Paul's shoulders, hands drifting up to his neck, tangling in his hair. Paul unzipped his hoodie, and Jacob struggled out of it, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt brush against his nipples. Paul moved farther down, sucking at the hard, sensitive skin through the material and Jacob let out a breath he'd been holding with a sound he'd never heard from his own lips. Paul gave a quiet, appreciative laugh and nosed at Jacob's nipple before biting down, gently, just a quick tease before sliding his arms down Jacob's sides and lifting up the hem of his shirt. He kissed and licked his way across the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, pushed Jacob's hips down when they bucked up against him. He looked up, lips parted, a question in his eyes and Jacob nodded, a silent _yes_ falling from his mouth with the exhalation.

Paul popped the button on his jeans, slid the zipper down slowly, and Jacob's head fell back against the couch, swallowing hard. He didn't know what he was doing, what  _they_ were doing, but he wasn't about to question it now. Paul tugged at his waist and Jacob raised his hips, letting his jeans fall down below his knees. Paul pulled them all the way off, shoving them to the side before letting his hands work their way back up Jacob's legs to rest at his thighs. He stroked Jacob's erection through the thin fabric of his boxers, raising gooseflesh across Jacob's skin. He shivered a little as Paul bent his head to lick and nip at his hips, pressing soft, wet kisses against Jacob's cock through the cotton layer before slowly peeling down his boxers and tossing them across the room.

Paul stared for a moment, Jacob's cock hard and already wet and glistening at the top. Jacob might have been embarrassed about that two bottles of champagne ago, but it was nothing compared to the look of fascinated desire etched across Paul's face. Hungry noises escaped his mouth as he licked and sucked his way around the hollows of Jacob's hips, making Jacob's breath hitch and shudder in his chest. He was moments away from begging and Paul _knew_ it, ensured it with every slide of his tongue across quivering skin. When his tongue grazed the top of Jacob's head, licked down into the slit and pulled away, working his way up from the bottom to the top in a slick trail of saliva, Jacob spread wide his legs and tugged sharply at Paul's hair. His breaths came short and heavy, one upon the next like dominoes falling all in a row. Paul swallowed him down and rose back up, sucking lightly, gently, before wrapping his fingers around Jacob's cock and stroking, squeezing just enough to make his hips rise and stutter back with the rhythm. Paul's tongue was relentless, teasing and bearing down in all the right places and doing things that Jacob hadn't even known you could _do_ with your mouth. The knot in his stomach clenched, not unlike the sudden grip of fear, but tight and burning in its undeniable progress towards release.

'Paul,' he whispered, unable to find voice to give warning. 'Paul,' again, louder, with sudden rush of breath. 'I'm going to -' and dammit, he didn't know the etiquette for this, knew they should have stopped to find a condom but there hadn't been time, he hadn't wanted to _make_ the time. He was greedy and had never felt more at home and more terrified than when Paul had taken control.

'Shh,' Paul whispered, sucking the swollen tip of his head and licking around it in slow, searing trails of sensation. 'I'm here with you. Let go.' He moved back down, swollen lips wrapping around the length of his cock and sucking it into his mouth until it brushed the back of his throat. He stroked the shaft slowly, letting Jacob's hips rise to fuck his mouth as he lost control. He came with a stuttering gasp, pulling strands of Paul's hair loose and Paul swallowed him down, licked every drop from top to bottom as he worked Jacob through it. He shuddered and struggled to breathe, rubbing his hands across Paul's head, down to his cheeks and jaw in a silent plea for forgiveness. Paul licked a patch of skin in the hollow of his hips, sucked it into his mouth and bit down, hard enough to bruise. Jacob cried out, but didn't speak a word against it. He wanted the mark, needed the reminder where no one else could see, and somehow Paul had known _that_ , too. Jacob wanted to puzzle it out, make the pieces fall into place but the world was spinning too fast to keep his thoughts together.

Paul rose from his crouch, biceps straining as he worked his way back up Jacob's body with slick, damp kisses to reach his mouth. Jacob opened under his touch while Paul pulled his head up from where it had fallen back in boneless relief. 'Let's go to bed,' he whispered against Jacob's lips and Jacob nodded, worn out and too far gone to protest. Paul slipped an arm around his shoulders and he struggled to his feet, stopping to collect his boxers from the armchair with a breathless laugh. He fell into bed, boxers more or less in place, and looked up, realising that Paul was still completely dressed.

'Oh, fuck,' he said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't – I should have.'

Paul stripped off his shirts and unbuckled his belt, sliding out of his pants. He crawled onto the bed and wrapped an arm around Jacob, who still struggled to find the right words. 'You don't have to do anything you don't want,' he said a dark but almost hopeful note swimming around the words, and Jacob swallowed hard, trying to imagine what it would be like to return the favor. 'Just promise me one thing, if you can,' Paul added, rolling Jacob over on his side to press the warm length of his body against his.

'That we'll get condoms next time?' Jacob asked with a strange, off-kilter laugh. 'Next time?' Paul repeated, breath catching in his throat. Jacob turned back over in his arms to face him, planting a gentle kiss on his mouth with lips that felt pleasantly bruised. He could tell he'd thrown Paul off balance, and didn't know what to say to make it right. Maybe this was a one time thing. Maybe Paul only wanted him because of the champagne in their blood, the rush of playing make-believe in front of a crowd.

Paul shook his head slightly, a huff of breath escaping his lips when they parted. 'I'll get you whatever you want,' he said, eyes unfocused and lips parted with tangible desire. 'But I love the way you taste.' Jacob flushed and glanced away, but Paul lifted his head back up to meet his gaze.

'So -' Jacob began, the words unsteady on his tongue. 'What were you going to ask me?'

Paul stroked his fingers down Jacob's arm before answering, the hesitance in his face a clear sign that he wished he didn't need to ask. 'Don't wake up and pretend this didn't happen.' Jacob pressed his fingers against Paul's lips, but he brushed them away, a sheer animal terror reflected in his gaze. 'Don't say it was the holiday, the wine, please don't tell me it was a mistake.' His voice broke on the last word, and Jacob pushed him down gently against the mattress, settling his head beneath Paul's collarbone. No matter how much of a surprise it had been in the moment, Jacob knew deep in his gut that it had only been a matter of time. Paul was his best friend, and he knew that Paul had never had anyone like him in his life. He knew it for certain because Paul had told him, and Jacob had seen how much it cost Paul to admit.

'I promise,' he whispered against the furnace of skin beneath him, and he meant to keep it.

 

It was a quiet Sunday evening in September, both of them having spent the day in old college t-shirts and sweats, mowing the lawn, catching up on laundry, and for once, actually remembering to run the dishwasher before they were completely out of forks. A faded Old Dominion logo graced the front of Jacob's shirt, the old blue and grey, worn from the passing of years and too many runs through the washer. It had been his safety school, and Jacob had proved bitter disappointment to his old man by not getting into William & Mary, the family favorite. He wore it defiantly, just to piss the bastard off, and it still fit him like a glove. Paul had visited the campus, bought a shirt with a slightly different design to fit their invented life stories, how they met in college (Paul still paying off his loans and Jacob on scholarship), fell madly in love and were still together, living the American dream in the suburbs. No matter how many times Paul wore it and washed it, or scrubbed it with lava soap under a rush of hot water, it still didn't look as authentic as Jacob's. Just one more crack, one more flaw in the design.

Paul declared their work finished for the day and collapsed onto the couch, flipping channels to find over 100 stations worth of nothing. Jacob liked Mythbusters and the History channel, liked to use their experiments and random facts in his classes, but Paul didn't have the patience. He would watch most any kind of sport, but his truest loves were hockey and the occasional rugby or lacrosse match that had the good fortune to be broadcast. Jacob teased him for only liking the rough sports, for loving the blood on the ice. That sort of teasing usually ended up in Jacob pinned to the counter, the furniture, or all too often, the stairs, getting his just reward for baiting the lion.

This evening, however, remained calm, as Paul switched off the TV and caught Jacob by the waist as he passed by, pulling him down. Jacob sprawled out across the cushions, his back pressed to Paul's chest, Paul's arm slung loosely about his waist.

'We should get a dog,' Jacob said, unexpectedly. Paul gave a small laugh, pressing his cheek against the top of Jacob's head. 'You know we can't get a dog.'

'Why not?' Jacob pressed, leaning back against Paul's chest. 'I like dogs.'

'Dogs don't like me so much,' Paul countered. 'Besides, what would we do with it?'

'I don't know,' Jacob floundered. 'Take it to the park? Throw a frisbee? Whatever normal people do with dogs.'

Paul sighed, the air hissing out between his teeth. 'I meant when we get the signal,' he corrected, pinching the skin at Jacob's hip. Jacob drew in a sharp breath, moving back against him reflexively. Paul's hands continued wandering, toying with the waistband of Jacob's sweats. Jacob bit his lower lip, arching back to press his mouth against Paul's neck. He knew Paul was trying to distract him, and it always worked. This was all still so new, would always be new, but at the same time, that touch felt intimately familiar. He was used to Paul's hands on his shoulders, pressing into the small of his back. Used to light kisses on the top of his head and winding their fingers together in public. He still wasn't used to those same hands stroking his abs and pushing their way beneath his clothes. Might never get used to the feel of Paul's tongue pressing against his lips, nudging them open and taking whatever he wanted. He could feel Paul getting hard through the thin fabric of his track pants, and Jacob pressed a hot, wet kiss against his jaw in answer.

'We'll just drop it off somewhere,' Jacob whispered, 'Let someone else take care of it, or -' Paul's thumb swept across his hipbone, interrupting his sentence with a quiet gasp. 'Sarah would take it, you know she would -' Paul's left arm swept up from beneath Jacob's elbow, those strong, deft fingers settling into place around his neck and Jacob left his eyes drift shut. That warm, welcoming pressure offered a strange comfort, the sort he never thought he'd crave but Paul had shown him that he did. _Oh_ , how he did.

Paul knew things about him, sensed things, in ways Emma never had. Jacob loved Emma, had loved her for years, but the last few months had forced him to realise that he loved Paul, too. It was a different kind of love, but that didn't change the way it felt to lie beside him in the dark, one arm wrapped protectively across his hips, pulling him close even while they slept. To lie beneath him, to crave what Paul could give; to fall to pieces in his arms and come to shaking like he never had before in his life. It was terrifying and electric and the truth of it was never any less surprising, no matter how he tried to pick it apart. Unravel it. Unmake it, in the face of what had to happen next.

'Sarah can't take the dog we won't have,' Paul whispered, low and hoarse against his ear, 'because Sarah won't be here anymore. You know that.' His fingers flexed lightly across the skin at Jacob's throat and he nodded, his eyes squeezing down tight around the thought.

'I know the plan,' he whispered back. 'I know it inside and out, but -' He moved to sit up and Paul let him, the hand at his neck sliding down to rest against his hips. Holding him down, the way Paul knew he liked, anchoring him in place with a steady weight. 'I _like_ her, Paul,' Jacob confessed, staring down at the carpet between his knees. 'She's our friend, and I like her and I – I like this, too.' He looked up, uncertain, his tongue sliding along his lower lip. Paul drew back slightly, his head tilting back and away.

'This,' he repeated, the word sounding suspicious and almost distasteful on his tongue.

'I like teaching,' Jacob continued, the words tumbling out before he had time to think. 'I like our routine,' he said, hands gesturing fruitlessly in the air. 'I like my job, and I'm good at it, and I hate our fucking neighbors and their landscaping and their stupid SUVs but god, Paul,' he stopped, rolling the words around in his mouth. They still tasted like stones and if he swallowed them now, he'd feel their weight rattling around forever. 'I like the kids in my class, and I like movie night with Sarah and I love it when –' _When you kiss me and you mean it_ , he thought, but said 'When you cook me breakfast in the morning,' instead. Jacob watched the straight line of Paul's lips fall open, the way Paul's eyes searched his face. He reached down to cover Paul's hand, squeezing his fingers. 'I like us.'

Paul looked down, watched Jacob sweep his thumb back and forth across his wrist. 'Remember when you told me why you dropped out of med school?' he asked, voice pitched low and strangely monotone. Jacob sat back slightly, confused. 'Well yeah, of course I do. Why?'

'You said it was because you just couldn't see it being worth the effort.' Paul reminded him, his voice so crisp and clear it was almost angry. 'You said you looked around you every day and saw a world full of useless, miserable walking bags of skin and bone. You said you couldn't think of a single reason to spend the rest of your life mired in piss and shit just to keep those ungrateful, ignorant _cattle_ just an inch further from the certainty of death _._ '

'When they probably don't deserve to be here in the first place,' Jacob finished, pulling away and dropping his head down into his hands. 'Survival of the fittest.'

'Hunter and prey,' Paul agreed, his shoulders set in a firm, square line. 'You picked the winning side, Jacob,' he commended him with a hand on his shoulder. 'Are you telling me you can't follow through?'

Jacob sniffed, running his hands across his scalp and tugging at his hair. His face was red, his breathing heavy and uneven. 'I don't know,' he confessed, glancing up at Paul with the same look of hopeless desperation he'd worn that night down by the docks. That night, when Paul had killed for him, so he wouldn't have to. 'I thought I could do it a year ago, but now?'

'What's different now?' Paul asked, his voice softening, his head tilting forward to hear Jacob's reply.

'Everything,' Jacob said, and no single word before had ever felt so devastating. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Paul's t-shirt, tugging him closer. 'Everything,' he repeated, cupping Paul's face in one hand and resting their foreheads together.

Paul hesitated for a moment, his eyes closed, still as a statue, before wrapping a possessive hand around the back of Jacob's neck and kissing him, hard. It was rough and almost angry, his tongue pushing past Jacob's lips to scrape against his teeth. Jacob pulled back, taking in a swift breath before Paul pushed him down against the cushions and reclaimed his mouth. He nipped at Jacob’s lower lip and pulled back with the skin between his teeth, biting down nearly hard enough to draw blood. Jacob moaned, thrusting his hips up against Paul's thigh where it pinned him down. Paul's mouth tasted like iron and the bitter dark coffee he drank, the kind Jacob couldn't stand but learned how to make anyway. He pushed back against Paul with everything he had, sucking at his tongue until Paul began to thrust back. He maneuvered a hand between them, his palm resting at the base of Jacob's cock and rubbing urgently, ungently through the fabric.

Jacob groaned and clung to him, his hips struggling to find a rhythm against the sheer weight and force of Paul above him. 'Please,' he managed, between wet, messy intersections of lips and teeth, meaning _now, yes, more_ and especially _don't stop_. His fingers tugged at the hemline of Paul's shirt, rucking it up to grab hold of the skin below. Paul sat up just enough to pull the shirt off over his head and cast it aside before leaning back in, slowly, and with intent.

''Please,' what?' Paul growled, tracing the outline of Jacob's swollen lip with his thumb. His fingers gripped Jacob's jaw with the strength to bruise, holding him firmly in line and refusing to let him look away. 'Tell you I can't do this, either?' His fingers found their place on Jacob's cock again, slipping under the fabric to stroke harder. He was already slick and Paul quickened his pace with each successive sentence as Jacob shuddered beneath him. 'That I'm a different man than I was in that attic?' Jacob tried to shake his head, _no_ , but Paul held him fast. 'I can't do that,' he hissed out between clenched teeth, eyes widening as the words slipped past his mouth. 'I haven't changed Jacob. I can't be someone else for you.'

Jacob rolled his hips up to meet each stroke, never taking his eyes from Paul's face. 'No,' Jacob gasped out, his eyes squeezing shut between the words and flying back open as Paul's fingers grazed the head of his cock and slipped back around. His focus was hazy at best, but he locked his eyes on Paul's and bit down on his lip as the motion and the pressure dragged him closer. 'Never – wanted that,' he managed, arcing his head back against the cushions.

Paul loosed his hold, letting Jacob slide away. He stretched out over him, thighs pressing down against Jacobs own, leaning heavily on one arm to hold Jacob's lost and fractured gaze. He slowed his strokes, lightening his touch until Jacob all but whimpered underneath him. He rubbed his thumb across the slit before breaking away, only to trace a slick, two-fingered trail down Jacob's face. He smiled, something lean and hungry and almost feral behind his eyes. 'What you want is a fiction,' he whispered ruthlessly. 'You are not Will Wilson. I am not Billy Thomas and we are not. In love.' His face changed, watching for Jacob's reaction, needing to see the hurt, the anger rise to the surface. 'I am not Emma,' he pressed, 'and I will not fill in for her until we make it out of here. _If_ we make it out of here.' He pressed down against Jacob, rubbing his head against Jacob's cheek. They both knew it was an option; the most likely scenario ending in bullets and, if Paul had the guts, a knife to his own throat. The image overtook him, paralyzed him as he breathed in the scent of Jacob's skin. Which of them would die first if the plan went south?

'I never wanted you to be anyone else,' Jacob murmured, and Paul felt his words more than he heard them, just vibration moving across skin. Jacob's voice had gone hoarse and cracked with desire, the fingers stroking absently through Paul's hair catching the tangles and pulling, sharp and unsteady. He turned his head to the right, slipping Paul's fingers into his mouth and running his tongue along beneath them. Paul's entire focus stuttered when he sucked down, hard, lips spreading out over his knuckles and Paul slid them in and out and back inside again, pushing back against Jacob's tongue, his arm just beginning to shake. Jacob tugged at his sides, at his hips, pushing and pulling until the angle was just right. Nibbling the tips of his fingers, Jacob squirmed until they were eye level, Paul's back to the wall for the first time. It was unnerving to find himself at someone else's mercy, even Jacob's, and he struggled to fix the balance of power.

'I'm a monster,' Paul asserted, refusing to look away from Jacob's eyes locked on his. Jacob smiled, knowing and full of an unfamiliar sentiment. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Paul's and slowly, steadily worked them open. One hand stroked Paul's face, searching, reassuring, while the other threaded through his hair. Paul moaned, wondering how he had lost a battle he hadn't even known they were fighting.

'You are,' Jacob agreed when he pulled away, breathless. 'But you're mine.' Paul closed his eyes and bowed his head, tucking it beneath Jacob's chin. He shook his head back and forth, _no_ , but Jacob's hand trailed down his spine and left shivers in its wake. 'Fuck me,' Jacob whispered, lips hot against his ear, and Paul pushed Jacob away, grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping him over onto his back. He pulled Jacob’s shirt over his head, and Jacob struggled to free himself from the fabric. He pushed down his sweatpants, and Paul sat back, letting his hands trail down Jacob's chest and tease his flushed red nipples, coming to rest above his hips. His gaze was predatory and fierce as he leaned past Jacob to rummage through the end table drawer. They'd started keeping condoms in odd places around the house, at first as a humorous touch to their cover story but now, now Paul was grateful for the convenience. If he'd lost his grip on Jacob's skin in that moment, he wasn't certain he'd be able to find his way back.

He handed the foil square to Jacob with a sharp upwards nod, and slid his pants down over his hips. They didn't always use one, frequently managing to forget when one of their mouths was hot and demanding on the other's cock, but sometimes Paul liked to feel the pressure, the restriction against his own skin. He especially liked making Jacob do the work, Jacob's hands slowly, teasingly stroking his foreskin before slipping the slick rubber ring down over Paul's cock. Paul groaned at the sensation, hooking his arms beneath Jacob's knees and pulled him down until the position was just right. Jacob leaned back on his elbows, his head propped against the armrest as he watched, shamelessly appreciative of the sight. Paul reached into the wrapper where it had fallen on the cushions, coating one finger with the remaining lube. He reached down between Jacob's cheeks and traced slow circles around that hot, tight muscle, waiting for Jacob's inevitable moan and the release that would let him slip inside. He slid in and out, one finger all his waning patience allowed, and then Paul was yanking him up by the hips and fitting his cock against Jacob's ass.

Jacob cried out and bore down as Paul pushed inside, short, careful thrusts and then as Jacob opened to him, all at once. He groaned, pulling back and thrusting forward and Jacob's hips met him in the familiar dance, stroke for stroke. Paul watched Jacob's head fall to one side, watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard around the sensation. It was rough, and fast and as Jacob's cock slid across his clenched abdominal muscles, Paul knew he was close. He reached an arm around, slowly stroking him from base to head and Jacob shuddered, thighs trembling against Paul's sides. He made a noise that sounded like something was being torn from him when he came, slick and wet and warm, soaking them both. Paul picked up the pace of his thrusts, letting the unpredictable post-orgasmic pulse of Jacob's muscles draw him over the edge. His climax flooded through him in wave after shuddering wave and Jacob reached out, pulled him down to lay against his chest.

 

Jacob never brings up his doubts again, if indeed, he even has them. Paul works his forty hours, as miserable as the guy in the next cubicle, but comes home to something he never thought he could have. He cooks dinner and listens while Jacob tells him stories about his day, shows him art the kids have made and rubs his shoulders while he outlines lesson plans. On quiet evenings, he lies and tells Jacob that he brought work home. He scours his databases and works his contacts to find the names and numbers he needs and spends entire evenings staring at maps, demographics, highways and byroads until he settles on a place. Seattle is far enough away, he thinks, and close enough to the border that they could run if it came to that. Jacob loves the rain, likes to sit and watch it flood down the windows, listens to it splattering against the roof at night. He thinks they could be happy there, in another life. It's a fantasy, but one he allows to occupies his mind when his hands can't touch Jacob's skin, and soothes the beast when Jacob isn't there to let it out.

 

Then it's January and the cars pull up outside the house, _Sarah's house_ , lights blazing outside their windows and he knows it's too late. It's all over the news. Their time is here, their moment to shine and he can't help the excitement that hums like an electric current beneath his skin. He finds Jacob in the bedroom, packing their things, a small bag laid out on the bed with the necessary components neatly arranged beside. He's cutting the plastic off a new roll of duct tape and Paul slips up behind him, wraps his arms around Jacob's chest. He turns in Paul's arms, squeezing his hands and his face bears a look of triumph and awe.

Paul takes Jacob's head in his hands, marveling at how strong he's become in their time together. This is Paul's work, his doing, no matter how often Joe tried to take the credit. His heart beasts faster and Jacob rests their heads together in a gesture that has become so easy for them, so natural. It's comfort and reassurance and dedication to the task all at once, and he feels Jacob's skin burning hot against his fingers.

'Are you ready?' Paul asks quietly, pulling back to watch Jacob's face for his answer.

'Yes,' Jacob says, nodding, his tongue licking at his lips and Paul wishes they had time for just once more, to press Jacob down against the sheets and cover every inch of skin with his mouth before he's inevitably forced to let the illusion go, but time is speeding up around them. The air is thick with potential energy and intent and he kisses Jacob once, fiercely, before letting him go. This is goodbye, Paul knows it, and the thrill of what's to come is the only thing that keeps his face from cracking.

'I'll get everything else,' he says, crossing to the door and Jacob's smile is luminous and terrifying and Paul has never been more proud. He unlocks the filing cabinet and pulls out a fire-proof box in the back, holding every trace of Will Wilson and Billy Thomas' life on paper. He hesitates a moment, fingers lingering on the binder hidden far to the back, before grabbing the rest and throwing them all on the hearth. He'd set several logs burning as soon as he saw the broadcast last night, kept them fueled, and the paper catches quickly over the embers. Their lives curls up at the edges, blackening to ash and he feels Jacob watching silently behind him. He waits until the names, the numbers, every record they've ever kept for the last three years burns away to little more than dust. He churns the charred logs with a poker, roughly burying all traces of what could have been while the monster breaks its chains and slithers to the surface.

A familiar, welcoming chill slips beneath his ribs and he nurtures it into ice, calming his hands when they begin to shake. This is Joe's design; this is their path. He turns to see Jacob standing, sure and steady, the kit already in his hands. They stow it in the dryer beneath a bundle of clothes and Paul lets his fingers linger for a silent moment on Jacob's shoulders before they leave to give comfort to the walking dead.

This is their chapter, and it has already begun.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy the way the end of chapter one bleeds directly into the first episode of the series, feel free to stop reading here. If not, if you'd like to see if there's a chance to make something different out of all these visions and revisions, then click on to chapter two.
> 
> Titles taken from Pull Me Down, by Mikky Ekko, which you can [listen to here](http://auriels.tumblr.com/post/48610946792). 
> 
> I hope something in these words, anything at all, helps the fandom, because I really love us as a group. We're small, but mighty, and we just keep on trucking through the pain. Also, I can't stop myself from editing and revising this, trying to make it up to snuff, so I hope that it will suffice.


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